


To Fade Into the Rising Sun

by SemperAeternumQue



Series: Remember [2]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Adoption, Angst, But he's trying, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Child Abandonment, Elrond's life is fucked up, Families of Choice, Family Drama, Gen, Gil-galad is confused, Heavy Angst, How Do I Tag, Maedhros is not okay in any way shape or form, Major character death - Freeform, POV Multiple, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, War of Wrath, everyone's a little bit fucked up, like I am not kidding this is so sad, okay a lot bit fucked up, very sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-14
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2020-03-04 20:54:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18820543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SemperAeternumQue/pseuds/SemperAeternumQue
Summary: Very short, very angsty version of Elrond and Elros confronting Maglor and Maedhros after the War of Wrath and the theft of the Silmarils, told from five different perspectives. Very angsty. This fic may cause excessive sadness, crying, and/or feels. You have been warned.Sequel to ‘The Last Light’. Title from ‘Remember’ (it is the last light/to fade into the rising sun).





	1. Maglor

**Author's Note:**

> Before you read this, I would like to say that I completely blame FactorialRabbits for all of this. After all, they were the one who wrote ‘the one [Maedhros] who could bear to live no longer and threw himself into the abyss rather than face the children who had screamed 'I hate you' to his face’, which was the line that inspired this entire travesty. (If you have time, go check out their fic ‘The Lines on My Face, The Lines on My Hands. It’s amazing.) That being said, they are a far better writer than I am and they have received the dubious honor of this absolute tragedy of a work being dedicated to them. FactorialRabbits, if you’re reading this, I just want you to know it was at least partly your work that inspired me to start writing and thus you have earned this dedication in full.  
> Like ‘The Last Light’, this is written from the perspectives of Maglor, Maedhros, Elrond, Elros and Gil-galad.
> 
> Chapter warnings for this chapter: suicidal thoughts, suicide, major character death, implied/referenced child abandonment.
> 
> As always, I looooooove feedback. Comments make me very happy, even if it's just 'I loved this!' or (more likely) 'OUCH'.

The Sons of Feanor have gained the Silmarils, but all is soon to be for naught. Maglor stands back-to-back with his brother, prepared to fight to the death.

Their oath demands nothing less.

Maglor is not afraid to die. Perhaps if they had died years ago at one of the kinslayings, it all would have turned out better. Certainly fewer people would have died. Elrond and Elros would be safe with their parents, not abandoned in their cousin’s camp by kinslayers. They would have grown up with loving uncles and grandparents, and maybe even great-grandparents.

Yes, Maglor thinks, all would be better if he and Maedhros had died long ago.

As it is, they are still alive, but only for precious moments. The army of elves and Maiar is advancing on them, more than they could ever hope to fight. Still, Maglor is not afraid until a flash of movement catches his eye.

Elrond and Elros stand at the edge of the circle of elves surrounding the Feanorians, and panic wells in Maglor. What if they attack? The brothers will be forced to kill them, and Maglor knows that will break him, for once and for all. There will be no coming back from that, no forgiveness, if there ever was any forgiveness for the Sons of Feanor.

Elrond opens his mouth, but Maglor is distracted by another voice, deep and commanding. “Let them free.” Eonwe, Herald of Manwe, says. “There has been enough of death.”

The armies part and Maglor leaves through the gap, Silmaril held in hand, until he is stopped by two small figures. “You don’t get to leave us again!” Elros shouts. Maglor winces but opens his mouth all the same.

Maybe he hopes the twins will understand.

Maybe he knows they never will.

Still, he tries to apologize, if only to give the twins that little bit of closure. “I’m sorry…I-“ He is cut off by a furious voice. “No! You don’t get to talk!”

“You abandoned us!” Elrond cries.

“You lied to us!” Elros yells.

“You left us with strangers!”

“You didn’t even say goodbye!”

“We thought you loved us!” Maglor cannot breathe, cannot think. “I lo-“ He starts. “I HATE YOU!” The twins scream in unison. Maglor slumps in despair, feeling its crushing weight more heavily than he has for many years, and walks away for the last time.

Head bowed, he follows Maedhros as he has done since they were toddlers in Valinor, before the darkness of the oath, before the deaths of their brothers and father, when they were young and free.

They have the Silmarils, but all Maglor can feel is empty. The Silmarils burn them, but he does not feel it. _I hate you. I hate you. I hate you_. The twins’ last words to them repeat in his head over and over and they hurt more than the burning of the Silmaril he holds as he walks. He does not know why he is still walking. Why does he go on? What is there left for him? By all rights, he should be dead. It would be better if he was dead.

But he keeps walking.

They walk until Maedhros is standing at the lip of one of the fiery chasms that rend the ground here, and with a surge of panic, Maglor understands what he is about to do. “No! Brother! Come back! We can go back! They will forgive us!” Maglor yells, even though he knows it is a lie.

He does not know who ‘they’ are, whom he wants to forgive them, but he will say anything to dissuade Maedhros from this path. His brother laughs insanely. “There is nothing left for us, Kano! Our father and brothers are dead, we have slain our kin thrice and the twins hate us! Why should I go on?”

“Nelyo, please!” Maglor cries. “You’re all that’s left to me!” Maedhros smiles an impossibly sad smile. “Goodbye, Kano.” He steps off the edge.

“I am going home.”


	2. Elrond

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: Implied/referenced child abandonment, heavy angst. 
> 
> As always, I love feedback! Even if you just yell at me in the comments about making you sad, I'm glad to have the feedback. (I'll be very happy if you yell at me about making you sad. I am an angst queen.)

It has become clear that the twins have been left, and Elros has raged and stormed. Elrond was silent through it all. Elros does not understand, but Elrond has always been quiet in sadness.

Gil-galad is kind, and the soldiers of the camp care for them well, but it is not home. It will never be home without Maglor and Maedhros. Elrond is lonely and heartbroken, and no matter how furious Elros is Elrond cannot stop longing for their foster parents.

And that is why when the messenger will arrive with dreadful news seven years after they were left in Gil-galad’s camp, Elrond will try to persuade Elros to set off. Elros is as angry at their abandonment as Elrond is sad, but even he will not pass up a chance to see their foster parents again.

So that is why, the news of Maglor and Maedhros stealing the Silmarils having come to Gil-galad’s camp, the twins do not even look at each other before they run towards the center of the Valinor host, unaware of Gil-galad following them.

They arrive just as Maglor and Maedhros have been surrounded by elves from the host, all with swords in hand. Maglor’s eyes flick to them, terrified, and pity surges in Elrond. He is about to beg for their lives, abandonment or no, when Eonwe intervenes. “Let them free. There has been enough of death.”

Neither Maglor nor Maedhros looks back at the twins as they walk away, Silmarils in hand. “No!” Elros shouts. He and Elrond run and throw themselves in front of the Sons of Feanor. “You don’t get to leave us again!” Elros yells.

Maglor winces. “I’m sorry…I-“ “No!” Elros cries again. “You don’t get to talk!”

“You abandoned us!” Elrond cries.

“You lied to us!” Elros yells.

“You left us with strangers!”

“You didn’t even say goodbye!”

“We thought you loved us!” Maglor’s face crumples a little more with each accusation from the twins. Elrond almost feels guilty for what he says, but he is hurting badly enough to scream it anyways.

The twins face their foster parents. Maglor tries one last time “I lo-“

“I HATE YOU!” Elrond and Elros scream in unison.

Maglor bows his head in despair. He turns and leaves, following Maedhros as he has always done. The Sons of Feanor make their slow walk away, just as they did when they left Elrond and Elros at Gil-galad’s camp, and, just as before, Elrond’s heart, already cracked, breaks just a little more.

“I hate you.” Elros whispers after their parents. “I hate you.” Elrond agrees. The Feanorians do not look back, and Elrond clenches his hands into fists, unaware that ‘I hate you’ will be the last thing either of them says to Maedhros.

(He does know, deep inside, and so does Elros. But both twins are so blinded by their hurt that they cannot see it. In a different place and time, Elrond would, but all he can feel is loss. [He will know it later, and regret every harsh word. But by then, it will be too late for Maedhros.])


	3. Elros

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: child abandonment, implied/referenced suicide, heavy angst. 
> 
> Please leave feedback. Kudos are wonderful, comments are better! If you hated it, tell me what I did wrong! If you loved it, tell me why!

It has become clear that the twins have been left, and no words can describe what Elros feels.

Rage would be appropriate, betrayal more so. Sorrow creeps through a crack in the walls he has built to protect himself, and hopelessness follows soon after.

No, there are no words that can describe what he feels, this raging mix of emotions. He shoves it all down, turns his attention to making this camp his and Elrond’s home, and ignores the part of him that cries out for the Feanorians.

And then the messenger comes bearing the news that Maglor and Maedhros have killed the guards and stolen the Silmarils. Before Elros knows it, he and Elrond are sprinting to the center of the Valinor host’s camp.

He does not know why, but he runs anyways.

Maybe he wants vengeance, maybe he goes for Elrond’s sake, or maybe, somewhere deep inside, he still loves their parents.

The twins arrive as Maglor and Maedhros have been surrounded by the Valinor host. Elros tries to pretend that he does not care that they may meet their death, even as Elrond is lurching forward, prepared to beg for their foster parents’ lives.

And then Eonwe intervenes with the words Elros will remember for all his long life. “Let them free. There has been enough of death.” The Sons of Feanor turn to leave, and Elros acts, impulsive and driven by the strong sense of betrayal he has nursed these years.

He jumps in front of the brothers. “You don’t get to leave us again!” His voice is that of a child’s, hurt and betrayed. He ignores Maglor’s wince as the Feanorian opens his mouth. “I’m sorry…I-“

“You don’t get to talk!” Elros shouts, furious and blazing. He feels his brother step to his side. “You abandoned us!” Elrond cries.

“You lied to us!” Elros yells.

“You left us with strangers!”

“You didn’t even say goodbye!”

“We thought you loved us!” Maglor opens his mouth again, despite Elros’ warning glare. “I lo-“

“I HATE YOU!” Elros screams. He hears Elrond yell the same from beside him. Elros has gone beyond angry, beyond furious. There are no words for his rage. “I hate you.” He whispers after the Feanorians. “I hate you.” Elrond echoes, hands clenched into fists.

Elros does not regret his words. He will, someday in the future, but for now, he does not feel even a glimmer of regret.

Somewhere deep inside, a nagging feeling warns that something is wrong. He tries to ignore it, but he knows. He knows, as surely as he knows his name is Elros, that ‘I hate you’ will be the last thing he ever says to the Feanorians.

Still, he does not regret it.

(Many years later, on his deathbed, he will regret. He will wish fervently that he had told them how much he loved them, but the wish will remain just that: a wish. [He will entrust his son with those words, with the burden of an ‘I love you’ to be said to Maglor and Maedhros. His son will never get to tell them, but he will pass those words down, and his son after him, until they reach a grey-eyed boy named Aragorn who will finally tell them to the intended recipient.

Elros will never know.])


	4. Maedhros

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: Canonical character death, suicidal thoughts, Maedhros. (He qualifies for a warning on his own.) 
> 
> As usual, please leave feedback of any kind!

They have the Silmarils. They had to kill the guards to get them, and already Maedhros regrets. He regrets every elven life he’s ever taken, save the ones taken to defend his brothers.

But he will not be regretting them very much longer because the elves of the Valinor host close in around them, swords in hand, and his only regret is that Maglor will die with him. He is not afraid of death. He welcomes it, asks why it didn’t come sooner. Finally, he will be at peace, and that is the greatest gift that could be given to him now.

No, Maedhros is not afraid to die. Not until twin boys step into the circle. Maedhros sees his brother glance at them frantically, afraid for what the boys might do. Maedhros is not.

He knows Elrond and Elros will not attack, and if they do, it is only fitting that he die by their hand. He does not fear their actions.

No, Maedhros fears that they will have to watch him die. He does not want them to see that, because even if they hate him (and they should), he was still their father, and no one should have to watch their father die. Maedhros knows the horror of that firsthand, and he would not wish it on these boys, barely even teens.

Absorbed as he is in these ever-darkening thoughts, he would have missed the arrival of Eonwe if not for the herald’s ostentatious silver armor, glinting in the light of the Silmarils.

He waits for the herald to order their death or even deal it himself, but it never happens. Instead, Eonwe does the cruelest thing he can do. “Let them free. There has been enough of death.” The herald says.

He spares them.

Maedhros makes to leave, certain Elrond and Elros will not want to speak to him. He hears Maglor follow, and then they are cut off. “No!” Elros shouts. He and Elrond throw themselves in front of the Sons of Feanor. “You don’t get to leave us again!” Elros yells. Maglor makes a pitiful attempt at an apology. “I’m sorry…I-“

“You don’t get to talk!” Elros shouts, furious, as he should be.

“You abandoned us!” Elrond cries.

“You lied to us!” Elros yells.

“You left us with strangers!”

“You didn’t even say goodbye!”

“We thought you loved us!” Maglor tries again to fix things with the twins, to apologize. “I lo-“

“I HATE YOU!” The twins scream in unison and Maedhros’ heart tears. Tears prick his eyes.

Blood-drenched centuries of death and despair have forged him into cold, unfeeling Maedhros, the elf who could leave his own sons at a stranger’s camp with nary a goodbye, but enough of gentle, loving Maitimo is left that those words cut deeper than a knife.

Maedhros walks away, ignoring the urge to apologize. It will solve nothing. The twins hate him. The Silmaril burns him. His family is dead. These three facts reverberate around in his head until he wants to scream. _I hate you._ Elrond and Elros say over and over. _You are a disappointment._ His father says coldly. _You failed us._ His brothers’ voices echo.

Maedhros stands above the fiery chasm. He has no reason to go on. He hears Maglor cry out, sensing his intent. “No! Brother! Come back! We can go back! They will forgive us!”

He laughs joylessly, because the thought of being forgiven is ridiculous. No one will ever forgive them for what they’ve done, least of all Elrond and Elros. “There is nothing left for us, Kano! Our father and brothers are dead, we have slain our kin thrice and the twins hate us! Why should I go on?” He demands.

He cannot face Elrond and Elros. He will not. “Nelyo, please! You’re all that’s left to me!” Maglor cries.

Maedhros gives his last remaining brother a smile born more from sorrow than from joy. “Goodbye Kano.” He steps off the edge, at peace with himself for the first time in what feels like forever.

“I am going home.”


	5. Gil-galad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woohoo guys, this is the last chapter! I was probably the least happy with this one, but I'm posting it anyways. 
> 
> Chapter warnings: Child abandonment, heavy angst.
> 
> As always, please leave feedback! I was the least happy with this one, so if you can see a way it might be improved, that would be much appreciated.

Gil-galad does not know what to do, quite frankly. The Peredhil twins have been living at his camp for most of the War of Wrath, and he still does not understand them.

He tries hard to make the twins happy, feeling some sense of duty to his distant kinsmen, but they are in the middle of a war, and Gil-galad’s time is short.

Elros is easy enough to understand. He feels betrayal at Maglor and Maedhros leaving them, and anger, but he is the twin who tries harder to make this camp a home for him and his brother. Gil-galad finds him brave and strong, if hasty and mannish.

Elrond is quieter by far, and also far less easy to understand. He rarely seems happy, except when he is with the healers, learning new things. Accordingly, Gil-galad makes sure he spends most of his time there. This makes him happier, but no easier to know.

Gil-galad’s lack of insight is demonstrated when the messenger arrives at his camp with the news that the two remaining Sons of Feanor have stolen the Silmarils. Instead of any other reaction, including the one Gil-galad would have expected, the peredhil twins run towards the center of the camp. Gil-galad follows, both curious and hoping to protect his youngest kinsmen.

He catches up with the twins as Maglor and Maedhros are surrounded by elves and Maiar, coming up behind Elrond and Elros. They do not notice him, focused as they are on the scene unfolding in front of them.

Elrond makes to step into the circle, but Eonwe intervenes. “Let them free. There has been enough of death.” He orders, and the host parts. Something in Gil-galad rebels at the idea of kinslayers walking free, but looking at their broken faces, he sees that sparing them is crueler than death ever could be.

The Sons of Feanor make to leave, and Gil-galad is not fast enough to stop Elrond and Elros from lunging in front of them.

“You don’t get to leave us again!” Elros shouts, sounding more hurt than angry. Maglor tries to apologize, and Gil-galad likes him better for it. “I’m sorry…I-“

“You don’t get to talk!” Elros shouts.

“You abandoned us!” Elrond cries.

“You lied to us!” Elros yells.

“You left us with strangers!”

“You didn’t even say goodbye!”

“We thought you loved us!” Maglor tries again. “I lo-“

“I HATE YOU!” Both twins scream. Their voices, amplified by the Maia blood in their veins and the pain they are surely feeling, echo throughout the camp. Gil-galad winces, momentarily closing his eyes against the noise.

When he opens them again, the Feanorions are leaving. He could hate them. He does hate them, or a part of him does. But watching the broken elves walk away, all he has in his heart for them is pity.

“I hate you.” Elros whispers after Maglor and Maedhros, just loud enough to be picked up by Gil-galad’s elven hearing. “I hate you.” Elrond echoes, and suddenly Gil-galad understands.

He has hated his parents, both birth and adoptive, for leaving him. He knows that what that is, and he understands the twins. How he wishes he didn’t! How he wishes that both him and the twins had been raised in a peaceful world, or failing that, one where their parents could stay!

But wishes are wishes, not reality. The Valinor host will leave. Gil-galad’s family will have died, the twins will be young and betrayed, the war will have destroyed their world, and Gil-galad will be left to pick up the pieces and make a new life for his people. It’s what he does.

**Finis**


End file.
